The very second that everyone was loaded into their assigned vehicles, we sped towards the location of the depot with all haste possible, hoping that we'd be there in time to actually do something about the Orks looking to loot it. Or at the very least, to take it back from the Greenskins before their reinforcements arrived to truly take and hold it. If we were particularly lucky in the latter case, maybe the brutish Xenos wouldn't have stolen or ruined all the supplies we desperately needed by the time we got there. Of course I tried not to trust in luck outside of a gambling hall, as other than that mine seemed to be rather hit or miss. Jurgen in particular seemed to be relishing this opportunity, either at the chance to fight some more Orks or because he was now able to drive a bit more to his usual standards(1). The vehicles containing our ad-hoc militia members were also in front, guns ready to fire as soon as the enemy crossed their sights. Those vehicles that were unarmed (or at least as unarmed as an Orkish vehicle can get) and filled with our non-combatants were at the rear of our racing convoy, while essential non-combat personnel such as our makeshift medicae and our Tech-priestess were towards the center of our formation. That way, they'd be both protected if any Orks flanked us, however unlikely that was, and in a position to aid the troops in the front if needed.
It was when we were midway to the depot's location that I got a report from Kolfax, who was also in our center with the other essential non-combatants; he'd noticed that there was a small sandstorm brewing, which would hopefully cover our entrance. As we were driving Ork vehicles, this would mean that the Greenskins would see us as their own kind, and wouldn't know the difference until it was too late since the sandstorm would obscure their sight of the vehicle's human occupants. Almost as soon as we received this warning, the frontal element of our ramshackle forces (which I was reluctantly but necessarily in the lead of) were engulfed by flying particles of sand kicked up by the howling wind. The sandstorm made for excellent camouflage, but was supremely irritating as coarse sand kept getting in my mouth, forcing me to use my sash of office as a facemask; it was a good thing we'd had enough makeshift goggles for everybody or I imagine some would've been literally blinded by the flying grit. I was tempted to see if I could create a psychic bubble to block out the sand, but considering my reputation now apparently involved sainthood, using the cursed powers of the Warp in a way that could easily be passed off as a miracle from He on Holy Terra and not accurately be seen as a Psyker's abilities(2) would be difficult. Illric was peering out into the storm as well, with his own Ranger mask on for once to protect from the blowing dust. Thankfully, there were no remarks about Eldar senses; I suppose he took the Humility part of his new Path seriously for all of his jokes and snark(3). Instead, he was peering into the whipping gusts of sand, as if trying to get a hint of green out of the dust. We didn't end up seeing the Ork raiders first, however. We heard them, or more specifically, we heard the barking of their weapons.
"Are they fighting over the loot?" I asked Jurgen as one of our experts on Orkish behavior. I had to lean in and shout to be heard over the combination of the roaring winds and the angry growls of our own vehicle. Jurgen shook his head side to side as he drove forwards blindly, a stained handkerchief placed in front of his own mouth so he didn't choke on the sands. One benefit of the winds was that I couldn't smell him for once, as he shouted back an answer.
"I don't think so…"
"Las-fire," Illric stated, and even behind that mask I could practically hear his brows furrowing in concentration.
"What?" I asked in surprise, before I began to hear it too. The distinctive K-KRAK of multiple lasguns being fired at max setting; sensible considering the sand would otherwise be diffusing the beam enough to leave the lasbolt simply tickling the hardy Greenies. The Orks were being fired upon by Imperial weapons!
"Attention!" I called loudly through the combead in my ear, seeking to rally the other members of our merry little band of refugees. "The depot is still under Imperial control! All civilian trucks, fall further back and remain hidden in the sandstorm! Leave the closest squad with them! Everyone else, follow me!" I voxxed. As much as I would have loved to be behind the frontrunners of the group, Jurgen's driving had put us in front by a fairly large margin. Besides, there was, as always, my reputation to consider which was even more important with so many people unused to military discipline amongst our numbers. "We have to get close enough to establish combead contact, otherwise they'll think we're Greenskins!" I shouted to Jurgen. Evidently, he heard 'get us as close as you can to the depot as fast as you can', because suddenly my back was pressed into the seat and Jurgen seemed determined to find out the top speed of an ork buggy. He was always literal about my instructions or however he interpreted them, which made him dependable but also had its downsides if I didn't phrase things exactly.
After a few minutes, I could barely make out the blurred vision of fortifications and called authoritatively into the combead. "This is Commissar Ciaphas Cain, Valhallan 12th Regiment! Imperial forces, status report!" There was silence save the typical crackle of vox communications. "This is Commissar Ciaphas Cain! Report!" I began going through the various Guard and PDF frequencies I was aware of, yelling my demand each time as we began taking stray lasbolts from the defenders. Couldn't blame them, since by all appearances we were more Orks. Finally, on the sixth try (of course, damn my cursed luck and nature), I got a skeptical response.
"Prove it."
Well, frak. I immediately changed to the frequency we were using. "Forward elements In position?!" After a few affirmations, I gave the order to open fire with everything we had at the Orks backsides. None of the PDF or impromptu militia members disappointed in their performance, obviously motivated to give the Greenies further payback. Even the two troublemakers, Demara and Tamworth, were effective as their crude autocannon sent explosive rounds right into an enemy buggy's engine block, setting the crude vehicle and its passengers alight; evidently, pairing those two up hadn't been a bad idea.
At once, the Orks panicked and broke formation, each enemy vehicle going its own way and spraying fire indiscriminately at everything else. From their point of view, their fellows had seemingly turned on them. We didn't give them time to react or regroup, keeping them on the back foot and from figuring out what was going on. Illric got to work shredding the Greenskins, turning our attached heavy bolter so fast that I wasn't sure how it was staying on the mount. He pressed down on the firing studs after peering down the primitive sights for a moment, and then I saw an outline of red and white as the rounds set off a fuel container. Confused by our actions, the Orks began focusing their fire at everything that wasn't them. And by that, I mean everything that moved which wasn't their own vehicle. They engaged the closest apparent enemies they could, which meant that they were fighting entirely amongst themselves now. At this point, I sent a quick and commanding vox message to our ad-hoc militia unit. "Pull back out of the sandstorm and let them fight each other," I instructed. Jurgen seemed rather upset at the prospect of no longer spilling Orkish blood, but he did as ordered without protest or question. Illric managed to get the last few parting shots sent by those under my nominal command, lighting up another truck full of Greenskins as we all pulled out and away from the small civil war we'd created. Then we sat and waited, watching the carnage unfold.
"Any chance that they'll regroup and come after us?" I asked Jurgen as I re-dialled my combead. He gave a shrug, scratching at his sand-filled beard.
"They've regressed to fighting each other. Even if the sandstorm dissipates, they'll probably focus on their fight first, and then the survivors will move to us." By now, the rest of the convoy was moving closer, skirting the area where the sound of heavy fire and Ork war cries were emanating from. I nodded to Jurgen, accepting his assessment of the situation as I reconnected with the Imperial forces at the depot.
"Is that enough proof for you?", I inquired dryly. There was a beat of silence, then the speaker on the other end let out a disbelieving chuckle of relief.
"That'll do sir. That'll do."
I nodded out of instinct even though he couldn't see it. "Excellent. We'll move in to regroup and resupply once the infighting dies down and we can mop up the survivors. A few of our number will take care of that, while the rest come in to meet up with you. Be advised, we're escorting civilian refugees."
At the mention of non-combatants, members of the defenseless populace that these PDF troops had sworn to protect, the soldier I was speaking to went quiet then began barking orders to those on the other side of our vox call before replying with what I imagine was all the professionalism he could muster. "Understood Commissar Cain. We'll be ready to receive you." A pause, then he continued, voice questioning and hopeful. "I don't suppose you have a medic with you? A few of my troops were injured in that last engagement."
Inwardly, I sighed and cursed, knowing that there'd soon be more cases of people seeing my 'miraculous' healing powers. But there was no helping it, if we hoped to add these PDF troops to our own forces thus putting more people who knew how to use a lasgun between myself and the Orks, then we'd need to convince them that such was in their best interests. And rendering aid was a great way to engender camaraderie. "We can assist. Have the wounded gathered and ready for us, and we'll do what we can. Cain out." Then I went back to our convoy's general frequency, issuing orders to all our vehicles. "This is Cain, the depot will let us in. Keep a few of our fighting trucks here, so that when the Greenskins are done killing each other, they can be finished off easily," I commanded easily; I was getting used to being in charge even though as a Commissar I was technically a political officer, not a commander. Still, the job was mine until I found someone more qualified and with a plan that assured my long term safety. After getting several of our makeshift squads volunteering for cleanup duty, I continued my instructions "Everyone else? Regroup and move out, we're going to the depot to meet our new friends."
The gates were opened shortly afterwards as the fighting died down and we advanced, driving through into the depot. From what I could see, it was all soldiers there; no civilians like our own merry little band. One of the PDF troops, wearing a dusty uniform bearing lieutenant's insignia, approached the head vehicle which I was standing up in. He paused for a moment, eyes widening as he caught sight of Illric who gave a jaunty wave then jumped from the buggy to go help the others. Then he shook himself out of his stupor, finished his advance towards us and called up to me. "Commissar Cain?" At my nod he saluted, which I returned as he introduced himself. "Lieutenant Piers, Perlia PDF. May I ask how you came to be in charge of this force, sir?"
There was a bit of confused and wary tension in the air, so I sought to defuse it with a shrug and wry grin. "That, Lieutenant, is a long story. One I'd be happy to share as we work to see our people tended to."
Piers nodded in acceptance of my answer, swayed by the promise of more information to be forthcoming. He turned his attention to the civvies as they finished pulling behind the walls, expression softening to see more of his fellow Perlians currently safe from the Orks; or as safe as any of us barring my own cursed self could be in this situation. The expression turned slightly sour and even more confused as he watched Illric help the civilians down from the trucks and with unloading what odds and ends we'd thrown together into assorted crates; no point holding onto scavenged Orkish stuff if we were getting properly supplied at an Imperial depot. He turned back to look at me, eyes questioning.
"And the Xeno?" he asked bluntly, but with some tact. Obviously despite being PDF he had at least some respect for the crimson sash I'd returned to my waist, and what it represented. I honestly wish I knew how to answer that question though.
"Apparently things are changing in regards to the Eldar," I replied vaguely. How in the God-Emperor's name do you explain that suddenly a whole gigantic chunk of an entire species had suddenly found themselves drawn to swear loyalty to the Emperor and His Imperium when previously they'd been some of our most bitter enemies? Illric was currently walking past the two of us as he helped to carry a few boxes of supplies we might want to keep deeper into the compound for sorting. The lieutenant still didn't seem satisfied, so I continued the explanation of why Illric specifically was HERE, with me, being as evasive as a Navy pilot with a bogey on their tail. "I might have had… something to do with it." Illric's uproarious laughter immediately followed that bold-faced understatement.
"Some? SOME?!" he howled, hunching over in laughter and trying not to drop his current load, before composing himself and continuing his work. Still, for the rest of the day I would catch him chuckling from time to time. Good to see at least someone was entertained by the comedy that was my life. Piers and I both stared as the Ranger passed us by, before the PDF lieutenant turned to me once more with both brows raised high. I let out a put upon sigh then continued the conversation.
"Okay, so it's my fault," I admitted, though not spilling any further details. "Part of that long story. I can assure you that he's with us, though. More importantly…" I desperately sought to change the subject from our resident Xenos and anything else that might strike the officer before me as odd. "You mentioned wounded?"
Instantly Piers' priorities readjusted, nodding rapidly in response. "Yes sir! You have a medicae with you?"
I hopped down from my perch on the lead buggy, letting Jurgen park it out of the way of the other vehicles still pulling in. I stood up from the resulting crouch, towering over Piers as I brushed off my trousers and coat from the dust that had accumulated on them. "Of a sort. However, I should be able to assist. Please, lead the way."
A bit of suspicion entered his gaze then, probably wondering if I meant to just give the wounded the Emperor's Peace, but nodded and gestured for me to follow him. As we made our way to where the injured had been gathered, Piers continued to converse with me. "I'll be holding you to sharing that story of yours as soon as possible, Commissar. I assume your convoy came here looking for supplies." An obvious statement rather than a question, but I nodded in affirmation nonetheless. "Was there anything else we can get you and your group?"
Fool that I was, I let my hopes get up for a moment. "Do you have any tanna?" Of course the return of Piers' confused look dashed those hopes. To his credit he actually thought about it for a moment before shaking his head.
"Never heard of it. Is it some sort of food?"
I sighed in disappointment as we came to a tent where I could see several troopers laying about in pain."It's… it's a type of tea," I explained.
Piers grunted, then what he said next would have had any red blooded Valhallan challenging him to a duel or just shooting him outright. It was fortunate that Jurgen was still seeing to our vehicle. "Huh. Must be shitty tea if it's not common."
I ignored the desire to engulf him in Warp-fire for that blasphemy against my favored beverage. Instead I pressed my lips together, entered the tent, and went to work with Aquila in hand. Several minutes, healed troopers, and an increasingly common expression of awe later, I was feeling more sanguine after supping on the soldiers' pain. I still wished there was tanna though. Now treating me with a degree of reverence, especially after hearing some of our convoy members mention 'Saint Cain', the lieutenant led me to a small command shed where he was at least able to offer me some recaf before divulging the current strategic situation on Perlia.
"Shit's frakked," Piers told me between sips from his steaming mug. "Last we heard, all forces had withdrawn across the strait to the other continent. There is no organized resistance on this entire side of the planet. Scattered bits of vox transmissions suggest that the Imperial Guard has arrived, and I guess you being here proves that. But it sounds like they came in piece-meal and are getting chewed up just as badly as we did." He took a long pull from his mug, and I got the feeling he wished it was amasec. I took the moment to say a quick, silent prayer for my regiment, hoping they made it down safely and intact. The PDF officer smacked his lips in satisfaction, then met my eyes once more. "And what's that story you've been promising me?"
Well, I had promised him, and liar though I was, I knew that openly going back on my word was a good way to sour relations. So I gave him a relatively brief summary of my adventures since arriving in the system, making sure to keep certain details sparse. How my and Jurgen's transport had arrived ahead of the other ships, and our subsequent ejection out into space. Crash landing on Perlia and meeting up with Illric, with a brief explanation of what he'd told me concerning the Eldar's new allegiance. Finding Prosperity Wells occupied, linking up with Tayber's squad, and our liberation of both the slaves and the Orks' vehicles. At his insistence, I touched upon my healing ability, and he fell for the story of my supposed sainthood just like the others had. And finally, how we had pursued the Orkish raiders here in hopes of getting resupplied, and what our plan for those supplies were. "So, our goal is to reach the Imperial lines." Well, that was my self-serving goal at least.
"And you think you can make it?" Piers asked, slightly incredulous at our stated mission as well as the series of events which had led us to here..
"Yes," I stated. Would everyone else make it? Oh Warp no. Hopefully a third would, however. Best case scenario: Three-eighths(4). My only hope was that I'd be among that minority of survivors- and Jurgen as well. After spending so much time talking about myself, I figured it was fair to ask Piers for his own story. "So how'd you survive this long?"
His expression went from incredulous to grim and stoic, a textbook look of a soldier dedicated to his duty no matter what. "The last orders from High Command were to go to ground and start a guerrilla campaign. My unit was left behind, and we followed those final orders. We've been using the depot to resupply ourselves, though the Greenies caught us off-guard." By now, the sounds of combat outside the walls had long since faded, and our rear guard returned to us inside the walls as reported to me via my combead. Piers continued, unaware that I was paying attention to both him and the reports of our ad-hoc forces. "So we'll have to move fast now, and scuttle the depot. A pity for the rest of the survivors, but it's better that they come across the wreckage then Greenskins armed with our weaponry."
"Other survivors?" I asked, perking up at the thought. There was definite safety in numbers as evidenced by my subtle attempts to convince Piers' unit into joining us, and this group had actual functioning vehicles with proper machine spirits- not whatever the frak passed for them in Ork tech(5). Piers nodded, giving an explanation to how he came by this knowledge.
"There have been others taking supplies from this depot. And filling out the forms while doing so, so that those who find the place know what's in stock."
"So for once, those forms are useful?" I asked, with it being my turn to be incredulous now. I was glad that Norbert was so level-headed; any other Administratum official would be lording it over us with the fact that their endless protocols and forms had proven helpful.
"For once," the lieutenant agreed, an amused smirk on his face. Saying nothing else, I stood and gestured for Piers to follow me before striding outside. I looked around, and spotted who I was looking for near instantly as they were the only one with obvious augmetics.
"Felecia!" I called. She came sprinting over, cheerful as ever and with a half-eaten ration bar in her mouth. I laid out my requirements as she finished chewing her meal and gulping it down. "I need you to try to integrate the vox machine into the depot. There are others out there. Can you do it?"
"Indeed I can!" She replied happily after her eyes darted side to side again in cogitation. "Maggy and I just finished convincing the machine spirit to work with us!" Our tech-priestess exclaimed proudly, her particularly nice chest (6) puffed up with pride.
"Maggy?" The lieutenant asked under his breath, eyes darting to me as if asking whether she was serious or not.
"Don't worry about it," she promised, waving him off. "This machine's spirit is much more cooperative, and will stretch the range even further! We should be able to get anyone even relatively nearby."
"And the Orks?" I asked, trying to see if there were any downsides to what I was scheming.
Optimistic as ever, Felecia just shrugged and smiled. "Odds are that since we took out that convoy, we should be good for a day, maybe two if we're lucky," she informed me after another brief bit of internal calculations. "We're loading everything we can into the trucks and Chimeras. Things will probably be a bit cramped in them."
"If it means that we have enough water or fuel for even one more day, then that is a sacrifice we'll have to make," I decided. Better complaints about the lack of room than dying from dehydration, becoming stranded in the wasteland, or far more likely from the Orks catching up to us. "Anything else?"
"I found a power-lifter!" She exclaimed with a girlish squeal, literally bouncing on her heels like a juvie given exactly what they wanted most for Emperor's Day. "It's been really helpful in speeding up the loading!" I nodded, disregarding her obvious excitement over her new toy as I put the fragments of a plan together.
"Good. We have, at most, a day or two. Odds are that the Orks will be headed here to see what happened to those they sent out, and come in force." Jurgen wasn't around to hear me (He was busy loading some crates of rations into a Chimera), so he couldn't correct me. I turned back to Piers. "I suggest you come with us, lieutenant. Unity and strength in numbers will keep the Orks from picking us off one by one, and attempting to get the civilians to safety is our solemn duty." There, now it was about our duty to the civvies, rather than trying to desperately save our own skins. Piers seemed to agree with that, since he nodded with resolute acceptance. I continued to lay out my hastily thrown together plan.
"We'll load everything we can, and wait two days as long as there's no signs of Orks. Grenbow's vox unit can be plugged into that Command Chimera I noticed, extending the signal with your help, Felecia. We'll send out a call, hope the other survivors get it, then wait and prepare for departure. Hopefully, they can link up with us before we need to leave and blow the base."
It wasn't long before I, Grenbow, and Felecia were in the Chimera and being driven a bit out from the depot to being in front of the walls. Grenbow as a dedicated vox operator insisted that this would help give us a clearer signal by broadcasting away from the structures. Felecia of course was helping him fiddle with things, connecting the machine spirits of the vox pack and the Chimera's own vox array. We could see the gutted ruins of the Ork trucks and plenty of green corpses sinking into the dunes as we drove past them, all at least partially covered by sand. Fortunately the sandstorm had also died down, further ensuring good broadcasting conditions. We eventually stopped about a hundred meters outside of the walls, and I turned on the vox and imputed my commissarial command codes once Flecia had given me the thumbs up.
"This is Commissar Ciaphas Cain. To all surviving Imperial forces that can hear this, rendezvous at supply depot sigma twelve. Be here by midday tomorrow. Message ends," I stated clearly and firmly, authority resonating from my voice. There were no answers, no demands of 'did you say Commissar?' afterwards, just silence and the crackle of the vox speakers. I chose to believe that it was a matter of anyone receiving our hail not wanting to give away their own location, rather than the more depressing thought that there no longer was anybody out there to receive the message. Satisfied at the vox-discipline, I flicked it back off and we took the Chimera back into the depot.
Thankfully, the first stragglers arrived by noon. There were twelve troopers, and one empty Chimera. This was immediately set aside for carrying supplies, which allowed us to take more from the depot. Illric got some strange looks, but they didn't shoot him on sight; probably because of the fact that a Commissar wasn't already doing that. Then, after speaking to Tayber, I was made to stand, and heal their injuries(7). As they passed by, their pain turning to joy (And wasn't that a delicate mixture that gave me strength), prayers were given to Him on Terra, as thanks for me. I decided to give a mental one to beg for forgiveness, and pray that the souls committing heresy by worshiping a being so heretical and damned as myself were forgiven. For the briefest of moments, I could have sworn I heard deep, booming laughter(8), before I shook that thought off. As I was finishing up with the line of wounded, Norbert came up to me. "I've looked over the forms that have been filled out. Most of the things checked out have been fuel… but also, some of the Leman Russ shells have been taken."
"Leman Russ?" I asked intently, excitement swelling within my being. "Are you sure?"
Norbert nodded, certain in his assessment. "Positive. A few Salamander armaments have been signed out as well." That made me rub my hands together in glee.
"This means we have at least one main-purpose tank along with scout vehicles, and that's going to be useful to keep an eye out for any Greenskins getting close to us as well as reducing them to mulch if they do get close." I said. With the Chimeras, Salamanders, and a Leman Russ, our little convoy would actually start to look like a proper military force albeit a patched together one. "We'll have to wait for them. Hopefully they make it by the deadline."
"Is two days too long to wait here?" Norbert asked, worried.
"Ask Jurgen," I instructed. There was a slight amount of hesitancy, as most were not as used to Jurgen's unique aroma as I was, but off he went. I repeated this a couple of times, sending those who had questions about the Orks to Jurgen, and occasionally at Illric as our other expert on the Orks. Bit by bit other stragglers came into the depot, including several Salamanders, much to my delight, as night began to fall.
"Keep watch, and make sure that any last stragglers are spotted early," I told those taking the first watch. They saluted, and I went to bed, for the first time since coming to Perlia feeling slightly hopeful that we'd be able to make it out of this mess.
Dawn broke, Jurgen waking me with a cup of recaf, and we saw the last of the incoming units. It was a small convoy, led by a Leman Russ; Emperor be praised, our hoped for armor had arrived well before the deadline! The gate was opened hurriedly, and the tank came treading in with the other vehicles coming in behind like juvenile water birds following after their mother. I could feel the exhaustion from those in the convoy; evidently they'd been driving all night to get here, without stop or rest. I decided to have a quick breakfast of the feelings of sloth, which definitely seemed to perk them up. I could see the tank commander straightening in the command hatch as I approached, slightly surprised to see it was a woman. At that time, I had yet to serve with any mixed-gender units, as the 12th Artillery Regiment was made entirely of sons of Valhalla. Still, anyone who could stand between myself and the Emperor's foes was more than welcome. "Commissar Ciaphas Cain," I told their leader, giving her a beaming smile and my best salute. "I'm glad you could make it. Are you and those under your care well?"
The leader seemed shocked that a Commissar was saluting at her, or seemingly caring about their well-being. "Uhm, for the most part, sir. We're all that's left of the 57th Armored, as far as I know at least. I'm Sergeant Vivika Sautine. I barely believed it when we got your vox-cast, Commissar. I'll admit we almost didn't take the risk, fearful of a trap; I'm glad we did now. Sorry I couldn't bring you more firepower."
"It's still good to have a full tank on our side." I pointed out encouragingly.
"I just wish we could've saved the Baneblade(9)." Vivika admitted. I was honestly surprised that PDF forces would even have access to such a potent weapon, but then the briefings had said Perlia was a vital source of industry for the surrounding systems. The sergeant brightened as she patted the side of her tank's turret with fondness that I was certain Felecia would appreciate. "But the Russ is a fine tank on its own."
"Indeed it is," I agreed, then gave a wide grin to show I was joking with my following statement. "But an entire regiment of Baneblades wouldn't be too bad either." My conversational partner was about to respond when her eyes widened and jaw dropped as I became aware of a presence at my side.
"While we're dreaming, I'd love an Avatar of Khaine." Illric added with his typical teasing snarkiness. As I made introductions, I glanced around. Well over a dozen Chimeras, including the Command variant we'd used to send out our broadcast and a medical variant staffed by several medics that were sent Ariott's way. Several Salamanders. A Leman Russ. Felecia was running about loading supplies with her power loader, which I could see was based upon a Sentinel-frame that she'd attached a flamer and a lascannon to. Enough lasguns that even the civilians were being armed and given crash courses by Tayber's squad on which end to point towards the enemy. I could see Demara and Tamworth stroll by, lugging a proper autocannon in replacement of their looted Ork piece of junk. All of this on top of what we'd escaped Prosperity Wells with and scavenged from the escape pod. By no means was it a proper army, but it was starting to look like one. At that moment, I had no idea about what I had unleashed, and what it would do to my reputation.
Excerpt from Steel Vixens: Pictures of the 57th, by Captain Vivika Sautine, retired.
"Before the Saint-Liberator's broadcast, we were dead men and women walking. Sure we were still fighting, but it was nothing more than pinpricks that the Grenskins barely noticed. We had no leader, no plan, no organization, and no morale. All we could do was fight until we died, and at least attempt to sell our lives dearly. Then that broadcast, that beautiful broadcast. At first I thought it was a cruel trick by the Orks, but the Saint-Liberator's voice… It awoke something in me, lured me in with the promises inherent within it.(10) It gave us hope. Cain brought us back to life within, and then he gave us purpose. In my mind, that was his greatest miracle of all."
1: Almost certainly a mixture of both.
2: The healing of injuries is a known Psychic talent. Were any of the forces near him at the time besides those who were willingly keeping his secret more in the know, then they would have pegged him for a Sanctioned Psyker.
3: It is common for Eldar to be in charge of regulatory duties, as their senses are much sharper than an average human. There are some jabs at us humans for this, but when they come from Oathsworn, they're seen as good humor. On a related note- eating highly-spiced food or other foods known to produce flatulence when being paired up with an Oathsworn regiment is a common prank, though the resulting prank wars can be almost as terrifying as open combat. And that's if Harlequins don't pop in and decide to show everyone involved their mastery…
4: For most convoys, this would be accurate. For Cain… not so much.
5: To quote The V-Void Dragon: Frak if I know how their shit works. If I were you, I'd have asked the Toadies… but they're all gone, as far as I know.
6: No, I am not jealous.
7: A Commissar would not have to take orders from any Imperial officer, let alone a lieutenant.
8: With all the attention the God-Emperor gives to Ciaphas, there have been times where I have been envious of him… then he picks up my feelings and starts bawling like a child.
9: Most of the other survivors of her regiment rallied around their Baneblade, and retreated southwards. They would be found, having made a fortress out of an abandoned city.
10: Caiphas was already a skilled and charismatic speaker before his Ascension. But as a Daemon Prince of Slaanesh, his voice has become naturally perfect and alluring. Then Sergeant Sautine and others of course were searched for taint, and nothing was found; it seems as though Caiphas' constant prayers to the God-Emperor to protect others from his own corruption allows him to use said abilities without spreading on Daemonic taint to faithful followers of the Emperor.